Vindhru Or Fen'Harel
by Melody-LongWolf
Summary: The Truth of the Dread Wolf. How would things have ended in Crestwood if Solas had been able to tell Lavellan the truth of his origin? This is a short story that holds one of many possible answers to that very question.


**A/N Here we are again my lovelies. I have written yet another heartbreaking Solavellan story. (I have so many feels I can't help myself). Just a reminder that, sadly, I do not own Dragon Age (DA 4 would be out already if I did XD). This story may be put into a longer fanfiction in which our favorite Bioware couple can possibly have the happy ending they deserve. However, as I have not made up my mind on whether I do indeed want them to have a happy ending (I'm evil I know) I am posting this as a bit of a teaser to test the waters. (Think of the 2018 trailer for Dread Wolf Rises if you will.) Even if this particular story does not end up in my longer fanfiction it will remain here for all you wonderful people to read and cry over. (I seriously cried so much writing this. I highly recommend listening to Down by Jason Walker while reading this as I did while writing it.)**

Grey rock was climbing with deep green vegetation. A light fog had settled over the bright green grass. Water pooled and echoed from a small waterfall. Two large stags carved into the rock stood across from each other, guarding the little cave of beauty and mystery. The cool mist rippled across the areas of her skin her clothes didn't cover leaving goosebumps in their wake. In her palm, Solas's hand was warm and comforting. He hadn't said much in their journey to Crestwood; but it was comforting to have his hand in hers, to feel the weight of his arm swinging in time with hers. She felt as though, maybe what he had brought her out here to do wasn't as grim and fatalistic as she had originally thought it would be.

"The veil is thin here," Solas spoke in fascination, "can you feel it on your skin tingling?" He guided her to stand in front of him beside the waterfall-filled pond. As gentle as a spring breeze Solas's fingertips trailed down her covered neck, across her bared shoulders, over the elbow-length sleeves of her dress-length shirt, down the exposed flesh of her arms, and back to her hands. Ellas shivered from more than the mist on her skin. Gently his hand came to cup her cheek, completely covering the white branch across her left cheekbone. Blue eyes gazed upon her with wonder, adoration, and… fear. She tilted her head into his hand, her eyes never leaving his. He was afraid. She could see it in the grey specks of his blue eyes, the half-hearted attempt at a smile, the shaking of his fingers so slight she almost couldn't notice. She could feel it echoed in her mind and heart, though she couldn't tell what exactly he was afraid of.

"You are unique," he began, "in all of Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade." He took a deep steadying breath. "I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me," he murmured. The warmth on her cheek was replaced by dewy air as he withdrew his hand, "for now the best thing I can offer is the truth."

She grabbed the fleeing limb in her hands. "Solas," she breathed with a small frown, "I don't need you to show me. I know you care for me."

"That's just it," he disagreed, "you have become important to me. More important than I could have imagined." His eyes were cloudy with turmoil. She could feel his worry on her skin. There was something important he wanted to tell her. Something he was afraid she would react negatively to.

Her hand reached up to cup his cheek. He leaned his head into her had much like she had done minutes earlier with a gentle smile. "As you are to me," she whispered huskily.

"So, what I must tell you… the truth…" he paused for the briefest of moments, something anyone less observant would easily miss, "your face. The vallaslin (blood writing). In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean."

"My mother said they honored the elven gods," she answered. This was common knowledge amongst elves, even ones that were not of Dalish origin.

"No," he shook his head in slow, sad motion, "they are slave markings. Or, at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan."

Ellas's face fell, "So she was wrong." Her mother had taught her so much: how to walk, talk, read, and wield the force of the Fade they had both been gifted with. Her mother had told her the stories of the gods before she had gotten the blood writing put on her face. Ellas recalled her favorite story, the tale of Fen'Harel – the Dread Wolf. Her mother had always told her Fen'Harel locked away the elven gods and the Forgotten Ones by tricking them both into believing he was on their side. She had said the Dread Wolf was an evil trickster that desired to rule the elvhenan without the interference with the other gods. If that were true, where was he now? Ellas had always believed there was more to that tale than what the stories told. She had always suspected the Dalish didn't know as much as they believed they had. But to be so wrong about something they held so dear? It was more than she could bear. "We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter?"

"Don't say that," Solas murmured, "for all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right." Ellas tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow in question. "They made you," he answered as if it were a simple question. Ellas gave him a half-smile in response. He always knew what to say to make her feel better. "I didn't tell you this to hurt you," he continued, "if you like I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin."

"These marks have been apart of me for so long," she hesitated,

"I look at you and I see what you truly are," Solas said, "you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent."

"You always were quite the sweet talker weren't you," Ellas chuckled. She took a deep breath, making her final decision, "I can't bear them now that I know what they truly are." Solas looked at her hopefully. "Take the vallaslin away." The corners of Solas's mouth spread in a smile. He instructed her to take a seat beside the pool of water. She lowered herself so she was resting on her knees with the balls of her feet tucked under her. Solas lowered himself down onto the ground in front of her in a similar position. The world around her seemed to dim out of focus. The feeling of the cool moisture of the mist on the grass faded to the back of her mind. The slow trickle of the flowing river falling onto damp rocks below and settling into the pool she sat beside disappeared from her focus. In the trees, birds sang a song she couldn't truly hear. In her foremost mind, she could only see the dark blue eyes full of grey highlights as they focused on her face. She could only hear the soft buzzing of the spell glowing teal on Solas's raised hands. She could only feel the steady pounding of her heart in her chest as she waited to hear what Solas thought of her now that her markings were gone.

Softly he stroked the silken expanses of ash-white hair to cup her petite face in his hands. No longer did her cheeks bare the bright white-grey branches that had distracted from her beauty. The features of the woman he had come to love were as bare as a fresh blanket of snow upon the ground. And she was so beautiful. So much more beautiful than he had ever thought she would be. Her almond-shaped eyes framed by dark lashes seemed larger now. Her cheekbones stood even more defined than when they had the twin white branches on them. Her pink-peach lips came more into focus. Without the cruel reminder of the slave markings on her face, her beauty was enhanced tenfold to him. Eyes the striking mix of green and blue of the sea looked up at him with fear and doubt. She wanted to know that he still wanted her now that her markings were gone. She could never understand the depth of how much more he wanted her now.

"Ar lasa mala revas," he whispered huskily. He guided them both onto their feet. His eyes never left her bare face. "You are so beautiful," his voice was thick with emotion. She gazed happily up at him. She drew his face down to hers, connecting their lips. He still wanted her. How could he not? She had always been beautiful; she was just more so now. She had shown kindness when it was most needed not just to him, but also to the people she barely knew and had just met. She had a fierce strength she wasn't afraid to show when she or those she cared for had been wronged. She had taken the task and role thrust upon her with determination to succeed though she never wanted it. She had shown curiosity and acceptance of the unknown better than any other he had met since awakening. She had trusted him with her life and heart simply because she saw something in him, he couldn't fathom. She was rare, marvelous, beautiful, and so much more than he deserved.

He kissed her with no reserve. His arms wound around her slender waist. One hand rested on the space between her shoulder blades, the other on the ample curve of her bottom. He crushed her to him, desperate to feel her body against his one last time. Her arms, so much shorter than his, wound around his waist. Her hands clung to him, holding him a willing prisoner to her. He was hers. He would always be hers even when he could no longer be with her. He would forever feel the softness of her full lips as they moved against his, the gentle stroking of her tongue against his bottom lip, the sounds of her sharp gasp and moans, the heat of her body pressed tightly against his, the soft scraping of her fingernails in his back as she clenched his long shirt into her fist. He would be haunted by the musical tingling of her laughter like bells in a gentle breeze, the sparking joy of watery green eyes she would gaze upon him with, the smell of water and lilies that she always seemed to smell like, the shape of her smile, the delicate blush upon her cheeks when he teased her, the love and adoration he felt every time she was near. He would lose so much following the path he had set upon. He would lose his very heart to bring back his people.

He pulled away, moisture threatening to spill onto his cheeks. She saw the change in him, felt the sadness pouring out of his heart. "I'm sorry," he could barely choke the words out, "I have distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again." He turned to walk away from his heart, his love…his life. Her grip on him didn't loosen, preventing him from leaving. He could have easily broken free of her grasp; he lingered to be near her for a few moments more. The sight when he turned his gaze back to Ellas tore open his heart. Her dark eyebrows were raised in shock and disbelief. Her full mouth hung open slightly in bewilderment. Her eyes, her beautiful joy-filled eyes, were clouded with moisture; the liquid mix of green was hardened in pain. She was hurt, and it was his fault.

"Solas?" she whispered brokenly. In her chest, her heart seemed to stop. Her lungs couldn't draw in air. Wet drops of salty tears clouded her vision. Would she never see the way his face and eyes filled with tenderness when he looked at her again? Would she never again know the soft firmness of his fingers on her skin? Would she be doomed to forever miss his hot breath against her pointed ears? Was she sentenced to live in a world where she never saw his smile or heard the hearty music of his laugh when she teased him? Through the pain and tears, she could see Solas. His light brown brows were furrowed. His blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. His soft pink mouth quivered slightly against his frown. He was hurt, and she didn't know how to fix it.

"Please vhenan," he begged. His heart screeched like an angry demon at him. It begged him not to walk away from this beautifully spirited woman. It cried for him to tell her the truth, that he was the great adversary in her peoples' mythology. She would understand, it told him. But, how could she? He was Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. She had been taught all her life to fear and avoid him, all the Dalish had. No amount of persuasion on his part could ever convince her to see him as just Solas after she was to find that out.

"Solas," she choked down a sob, "I know there's more you're not telling me." She could feel the pull of his heart against his mind. There was more to what he was saying. There had to be. He couldn't end things like this for no reason. That wasn't her Solas, her vhenan, her vhenas, he wouldn't do that to her.

"Mar del," he argued. He could not tell her. He could not bear the rejection and hatred she would surely have for him. It was better to end it this way.

"Ma harel," she retorted. She took a step to close the distance he had tried putting between them. "I know you Solas," she exclaimed, "I feel your heart as if it were my own. You cannot lie to your own heart." He looked at her with stormy eyes. They had been connected since the day the conclave had exploded, the day she had touched the orb and gotten the mark. In time that connection only grew stronger. He could not deny the intensity of their bond. She was right; he could not lie to his own heart, though he may try.

"Please my love," he begged, "do not pursue this any further."

"Then tell me you don't care," she cried bitterly, "tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on." She turned her eyes away from him, looking instead at the dew on the grass beside his feet. She braced herself to hear the truth. That she was nothing to him. That she had never been anything more than a pleasant way to pass the time. That she had fallen hopelessly in love with a man who could never love her. The tears she had been trying to hold back spilled onto her cheeks.

His face tensed as if her words had slapped him. "I can't," he answered honestly, "you are everything to me vhenan."

"Then tell me everything!" she burst with angry eyes. She tried to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks without him noticing. If he would just tell her what made him so scared, she could help him. She could make him see that she would accept him no matter what. He was a part of her, as important as the heart beating in her chest. Nothing was stronger than them when they were together. Nothing could tear them apart, except themselves.

"I can't!" his voice cracked brokenly, "I will not have you look at me with hatred in your eyes. Not now."

"That's bullshit!" She took a deep calming breath. Shouting was getting them nowhere. "Solas, please," she begged, "trust me. Let me make my own judgment of whatever it is instead of deciding for me. Don't take that choice from me." She struck a chord. His entire body went rigid, his eyes bore deeply into her. Hope burst in her chest. She just wanted a chance. A chance to accept and love him for whatever he was.

Don't take her choice, she had begged him. She was so clever. She knew him so well as to know that he valued freedom and choice above all. Was he truly capable of saving his people and bringing them the freedom and peace he desired if he would rob the one person who meant more to him than anything in the world of her choice to judge him for what he was? She deserved the truth. He had brought her here to tell her the truth about him, not the vallaslin. "Please, vhenan," he tried one last time, "let me have what little time is left with you."

"Solas," she shook her head, "you carry a secret. You always have. I've known this and still, I loved you." Another breath stilling his pounding heart as he waited for her to continue, "I don't care who you were Solas. I don't care what you did. Whatever it is, if you just tell me, I can accept you." He hesitated. Could she truly accept the Dread Wolf? How much more could it possibly hurt to see whether what she said was true or not? "I love you for who you are _now_," she whispered, "nothing will change that."

"What do you know of Fen'Harel?" he asked in a soft defeated voice. He could fight her no longer.

"The Dread Wolf?" she asked, "he's labeled a trickster and betrayer in the tales my mother had shared with me." She scoffed. Her tone made it clear she did not believe the stories she had been told as a child.

"You scoff at the legends," he said with sudden hopefulness, "why?" Had he been wrong about her? Had she not grown to fear and hate the Dread Wolf as the rest of the Dalish had? He had never thought to ask her before now how she felt about the gods her people worshipped. She had always been so logical, so understanding. She had never denied the gods, but she never spoke of them either.

"There has to be more to the story than he just tricked everyone into being locked up," she answered, "if he wanted to rule the elvhenan where is he now? Why did he let Arlathan fall?" He took what she said in impressed interest. She was asking questions he hadn't thought her capable of. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

"You are right," he nodded, "Fen'Harel did not want to rule the elvhenan. He wanted to free them from slavery to would-be gods. He broke the chains of all who wished to join him. The false gods called him Fen'Harel. When they finally went too far, he formed the veil and banished them forever. Thus, freeing the elven people and in doing so destroyed their world." Ellas listened calmly to his tale of the Dread Wolf. For someone who wasn't Dalish, he knew a lot about their gods. He knew a lot about a lot of things he shouldn't. She hadn't thought to question it before, accepting the answers he had given her about exploring the Fade. She had no doubt he explored the Fade to no end, yet how could he know so much unless…?

"You're Fen'Harel," she gasped. She connected the pieces that had been in front of her since the beginning. The wolf's jawbone he wore, the secrets, the half-truths, the aversion to the very name Fen'Harel, the odd reactions to curses that seemingly meant nothing but all involved _him_. It all finally made sense to her. "You're the Dread Wolf." Relief flooded through her. To finally understand what scared him so took a large weight off her chest. Solas had always been mysterious, now she finally understood the mystery. The fact that she had fallen in love with the very god her mother had warned her to stay away from didn't bother her, not really. The irony drew a low chuckle from her throat. It would take some getting used to, of that she was certain. However, she had come to love the kind, compassionate man full of wisdom and passion. He hadn't become any less to her by finally opening up to her. No, he had become the very opposite, he had become more. He bared his true heart to her. He shared his past with her. And in return, she was willing to accept and love both.

His eyes filled with more pain. Any moment now she would shun him for all his faults. He didn't blame her in the slightest. He would take the rejection and hatred, use it to sharpen his heart to a cutting edge, and focus on recovering his orb from Corypheus. "And now you know."

"Why have you kept this from me for so long?" she asked softly. Her musical voice held no anger, no hatred, only question.

"Would you have honestly accepted me if I had?" he shot back. She was toying with him, drawing out the pain he must suffer. He was ready for her rejection; ready for her to shatter what was left of his heart.

"Iron Bull said he was a qunari spy and I accepted him," she pointed out matter-of-factly, "why would you have been any different?"

"Iron Bull did not ask you to love him!" Solas exclaimed.

"You didn't ask me to love you either!" Ellas argued, "it is something I have chosen to do because of who you are _now_!" She took a deep calming breath. "Solas," she took his hand in hers, twining her fingers with his, "Ar lath ma." Solas shook his head miserably. There was no way this was possible. He was certain he was dreaming now, reliving a twisted version of the nightmare he'd had since he realized he loved her.

"You can't," he pleaded, "you'll only get hurt in the end."

"Why?" she argued, "do you have some secret mission you plan to embark on once Corypheus is defeated?" What she had meant as a joke caused Solas to sheepishly cast his gaze away from her. "You do, don't you?" she realized with a short intake of breath. He gave her a sad nod. She still didn't understand. She would not be hurt simply because Solas chose to follow his own agenda after the Inquisition was done with its work. No, the one thing that would hurt her would be if he left her behind to do it. "Solas are you leaving?" His throat was too tight with pain to speak the words that would crush her aloud. Her question was met with hard silence, the answer in the thick tension hovering in the air. "Solas… please don't go," her lower lip quivered as the mind-numbing pain she was holding back forced its way out, "take me with you." Solas looked at her with the same furrowed brow and pain-filled eyes as before.

"You know not what you're asking, vhenan," he denied her request. He squeezed their intertwined hands together. His blue eyes, the turbulent mix of clear blue skies littered with dark grey clouds, held a storm she wasn't sure she could weather. They were filled with doubt and turmoil, pain and suffering, yet there was still love there in their depths. She realized what he wasn't saying, he was leaving her to protect her. He would have spared her this truth if she had let him. He would have borne this burden alone, suffering in silence. The knowledge that he would have rather ensured his worst fear come true than make her suffer with him gripped her heart like a vine around a tree.

She pulled Solas into her embrace letting him feel the warmth of her love and desire for him. She breathed in the warm scent of trees, sand, and a cool winter's breeze that was Solas. She couldn't lose this. She couldn't lose _him._ "Ma vhenan, you needn't suffer alone," she whispered, "I won't let you." She needed him to realize that love worked both ways. He was willing to leave her to protect her from suffering, but she was willing to suffer to protect him from being alone. Any burden he had would always be hers, that was the price she was willing to pay for him. "I'm coming with you." She spoke as if it weren't a question up for debate, but Solas heard the question in her tone. If he truly wished to leave her, she would not stop him again.

He gripped her to him with a low groan, clinging her to him as if he were afraid she would disappear into the fog around them. He could insist she stay, leave her behind as he had originally intended. It would only take a sentence or two more, but he didn't want to fight her anymore. He didn't want her to see the monster he would become, but he didn't have the strength in him to try to leave her again. Perhaps with her by his side, he could avoid that outcome. He was stronger with her near, a better version of himself. Why could he not use what she was so willing to offer? She was already everything to him- his heart, his love, his life - why could she not be his hope as well? "Ellas," he breathed her name like a man praying to a goddess, "my hope."

Ellas smiled into his shirt. Her heart was full now, with the very thing her name meant - hope. Tears of joy poured onto the cotton material on Solas's chest. She would do whatever she had to make her lover happy. To bring him the peace she knew he yearned for. Never again would he have to suffer a burden alone. She would be with her Dread Wolf always.

"Ar lath ma, my Solas," she whispered pressing a kiss into his collarbone. Her lips were fire to his icy skin, causing him to tremble against her touch. He groaned low in his chest. She was so rare, so beautiful, so marvelous. Was she truly agreeing to be his? He closed his moistened eyes, afraid to look and see the blow of rejection part of him was still expecting. _I don't care if this is a dream, _he thought, _I don't wish this to end. _

She stood on the tips of her toes to press her lips into his neck, "ar lath ma, my Fen'Harel." _I love you so much more than you can imagine,_ he answered in his mind. He dared not breath for fear he would break her spell. Whatever was happening, whether this be reality or a dream, he was content to stay in this moment forever. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought she would truly accept him for who he was. Yet, here they stood. Her breath was hot against him. Her fingers trailed over his long sleeves to wrap around the exposed flesh of his neck, causing his skin to tingle more than the thinness of the veil where they stood. Her skin and clothing felt real beneath his palms. He dared believe that the woman he loved was indeed accepting him for all he was.

Slowly she pressed a kiss onto his trembling lips, "ar lath ma, my Dread Wolf."

**Elven Translations:**

**Ar lasa mala revas - You are free**

**vhenas - a home/place where the heart is, an endearment**

**Mar del - you're wrong**

**Ma harel - you lie**

**Ar lath ma - I love you**


End file.
